


Things the Early Bird Gets

by tea_petty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Barn Sex, Blow Job, F/M, Masturbation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rancher!AU, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26234899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Jett works hard, his lover rewards him.
Relationships: Australia (Hetalia)/Reader
Kudos: 8





	Things the Early Bird Gets

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr; tea-pettiest

Days at the Kirkland ranch started early.

At the first crow of the rooster (an ornery bastard, by all accounts) just as the sun was starting to peek over the horizon, Jett was up, lacing his boots by a steaming cup of coffee. 

The horses they owned weren’t going to turn themselves out, and they sure as shit weren’t going to muck out their own stalls neither. The muscles in his face felt creaky and heavy like he’d rusted overnight from stasis, and now that the day was shedding its dawn once more, his palms itched with the tedium of wear and the monotony of good, honest work, that had tempered his body and sensibilities for as long as he’d been a boy and owned the ranch. 

His brothers, lacking such similar country sensibilities, had fled the ranch with much enthusiasm when their studies gave them the opportunity, but Jett had been happy to stay – and his parents, happier to have him. 

He’d been a main fixture on the ranch for a hearty decade, with his parents having left to be closer to some of the other Kirkland’s in the past three years. Now, pushing thirty, and without the rest of his family, the ranch felt bigger – but that’s not to say it felt lonesome. 

There was him of course, and the bastard rooster, there were the horses – the greatest company one could have, the dusky, graying sheepdog, and then, his better half. 

Usually, she was up at dawn with him to help with the ranch. 

While not a rancher by trade, she was a free-lance writer who found herself as enamored with ranch-life and Jett’s routine as she was with the man himself. 

Today, he’d decided not to wake her – she’d looked so peaceful as she slept, her form poking out from the cocoon of sheets, the strap of her nightie slipping off one shoulder. Jett had taken a few moments to memorize this picture, taking it out with him as he mucked the stalls, fed and watered the horses, and turned them out for the day.

It was tranquil this morning, with the hours tiptoeing by. So accustomed to the quiet monotony of his thoughts and the rhythm of his labor, he scarcely noticed when a silent voyeur crept in, watching him as he worked, padding across the barn in just her housedress and her own pair of worn boots. 

Mysteriously stealthy in such footwear, Jett didn’t notice her presence until her arms snaked around his middle, and pulled him gently against her. 

He could feel the soft cushion of her breasts at his back.

Something grazed at the back of his neck; her lips, most likely. 

Jett grinned down at the bedding he was bringing into the stall.

“Good morning,” she murmured against his warm skin.

Jett adjusted his hat – hopelessly western – and twisted in her arms to reciprocate the embrace. His arms were sturdy around her, taking her into the safety of his chest.

“It certainly is now.”

She nuzzled into the front of his shirt, drawing in his scent; a mix of detergent, the earthiness of the barn, and the faint spice of his sweat.

“I see you started without me,” she pulled back to survey his progress in the barn over the past few hours, her lower lip jutting into a slight pout.

Jett’s smile softened, as did his eyes – like spring foliage. 

“I wanted to let you sleep.”

“You could’ve kicked me awake.”

He trailed his hands tenderly up her back; her clothes were thin, so he could revel in the feel of her skin almost as intensely as if she were wearing nothing at all.

“No, I couldn’t have.”

She looked so small in just her house dress and her clunky pair of boots. He noticed her hair was still tousled from sleep, the flyaways catching bits of sunlight that slanted in through the gaps in the roof. He’d been meaning to get that fixed for over a year now, but looking at her then, he’d almost be happy to forget again. She must’ve just rolled out of bed.

She never wore a bra with this sort of dress, since it was meant for lounging around the house. His eyes flicked down to her chest where he saw the gentle swell of her breasts, the imprint of her nipples just faintly discernible against the floral print. 

“That’s quite an ensemble you’ve got on,” his grin had returned now, with a wicked vengeance. 

Her cheeks heated; she knew when his mind was falling to the gutter.

“I just woke up. I came to see if you wanted breakfast.”

So she _had_ just rolled out of bed.

The sun had crept up in the sky by now, dispelling the blues and pinks of sunrise. The early morning chill had also been done away with; now Jett felt warm, and delightfully so. The woman in his arms only made this glow, like he had hot coals in his chest.

His body felt fluid and strong from the work he’d been doing, a well-oiled machine. Pair this with the inspired want that was burgeoning from his core, and he only grew hotter still, his nerves and blood vessels webbing through him like hot wires.

She was right to come and inquire about food; he suddenly found himself having worked up quite an appetite, or really, two. He peered down his nose at her. She blinked back, sensing a shift between them, but not one tangible enough for her to say aloud.

She waited for his move; waited for him to put a name to the movement. 

His arms tightened, and he pulled her in for a kiss, his lips soft and malleable against hers.

“I think I’ve got some right here,” he murmured against her mouth.

She giggled and Jett felt his cheeks warm like he’d stepped into a ray of sunshine.

He pressed his mouth more adamantly against hers, trying to bring her attention back to the kiss. He lavished his tongue against her bottom lip, and when he felt it drop further against him, he wasted no time in slipping his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. A low groan rumbled in him when her lips closed gently around him and he felt a light suck.

His fingers slid into her hair, catching in the sleepy snarls. His heart thudded in his chest, and she pressed herself further against him.

Rather than resist her weight and anchor them together, Jett wanted to freefall and feel his stomach flip; he let her move him, walking them back into the stall he’d just layered with clean straw. He had to keep himself from grinning so hard he'd split their kiss – he supposed they’d be christening the stall for the horses.

Jett felt something catch at his heel, and then he really _was_ falling. The world disappeared out from under him for too short a time to really appreciate, before his tailbone hit the worn wood beneath, the bruising impact only somewhat muted by the layer of straw. 

A resounding ‘ _oof_ ’ was pressed from him when she landed on top of him. 

Annoyance briefly flared in him; that damned, loose floorboard – another thing on the long list of broken-down things he had to get fixed on the property. Again, he was privy to forget, especially now, where his mind was decidedly off-duty from remembering anything other than the way light freckled in her eyes, and the warmth of her body pressed to him through their clothes; like experiencing paradise through the thin, dewy membrane of a bubble.

Jett was still a little dazed from the fall, and the soft pant of her breath against him didn’t do anything for clearing his mind. 

A few moments of stunned silence passed, and then suddenly she was laughing – breathless and giddy – and then Jett was joining in too, his hearty, barking laugh mingling with her tumbling one. She reached up to brace her hand at his chest, steadying herself though there was nowhere else to fall.

When their laughter petered out, they once again found themselves searching for lost breath. She reached up, and stroked her finger gently down the bridge of his nose, the soft, tan skin broken up by the adhesive bandage he had across it.

“You really ought to be more careful,” she mused softly. “You’re so clumsy.”

The softness of her touch was nothing to the tenderness in her voice. 

A pang went through Jett’s chest, the only heavy thing in him, he thought, between the butterflies in his stomach and his weak knees.

Mostly, he felt these things, but there was a part of him, acutely aware of his blood running south, the aftermath of their kiss still haunting him, invoked by the sacred rite of her weight on top of him.

She was all soft right now; all early-morning sentiments and dozing, lazy touches. He loved her so much even the thought of her seemed to pack his chest and head full as tangibly as if someone had laid his skeleton with concrete, but then and there, he did not want their usual, gentile lovemaking.

The dull ache at his back and the rasp of the scratchy straw against his work-rough palms spurred a new heat in him, needling at his skin from the inside. He wanted the wood to bruise her knees, and much more urgently; he wanted that dress off.

“I have an idea of how you can make me feel better.”

Her eyebrows lifted curiously; while she’d toyed for a while with where his head was at, she hadn’t known he was committed to the idea of fucking in the barn.

She watched him, checking to make sure that she, too, was committed to the idea. She was certainly wet, and Jett had never once left her _unsatisfied_ , though thoughts of an actual breakfast still teased at the back of her mind. 

She decided she could perhaps put these thoughts on the backburner for now, in favor of sating her appetite for the strapping man she was straddling just then.

“How so?” She finally asked, resigned.

A wily sort of grin spread across his face with that damned dimple playing by the corner of his mouth. His gaze dipped down once from her face.

“Strip for me, will you, darling?”

The wide vowels of his accent stretched the last word out endearingly, like a much-loved sweater.

She hesitated, much as his words pulled at her.

Even if it was their barn on their property, it was still outside, and of course, a _barn_. It felt so open, with the spillage of sunlight and the rustling of the leaves outside, clear as day, despite how they were technically in an enclosed space. 

Not to mention, the bugs that could’ve crept between the floorboards and beneath the blanket of straw Jett had just laid. These things gnawed at her.

Still, she couldn’t deny the way his salient, green eyes made her skin burn white-hot like he was baptizing her in fire.

In the end, the latter won out and she moved to start at the buttons on the front of her dress. She had made it about three in, when her cleavage was just starting to show before Jett’s hands went to hers, stilling her movements.

She looked up at him curiously.

Something flashed in those eyes of his.

“Stand up while you do it.”

There was nothing inherently dirty about the order, and yet, the sultry quality to his voice wasn’t one she could ignore. 

She rose to her feet slowly, deliberately, and finished the buttons to the waist. She held his gaze as she unrolled the fabric – also, a slow and deliberate process – pulling her arms from the loose sleeves.

She kicked off her boots, which Jett then realized had never been properly tied, to begin with, before she gave it a quick tug over her hipbones and let it slip from her form too. It pooled at her ankles until she kicked that off as well.

Jett stood too and took a step back to better survey her. She was left only in her panties. 

Everything about her screamed ‘soft’; the way her hair looked against her bare skin, the uninhibited swells of her breasts, the slopes of her hips and legs.

Jett let out a low whistle.

“You’re a real stunner. You know that, sweetheart?”

Jett started walking, circling around her. She listened intently to his footsteps though it was difficult to tell if they were drawing closer or not with how the straw muted them. 

Her shoulders jumped when she felt the sudden splay of his calloused fingers against her thigh, just beneath her left ass cheek. She was acutely aware of how her underwear was riding up in the cleft of her buttocks.

Even behind her, she could still feel his eyes, running down her body like how a customer might appraise one of their horses; studying their stature – the chiseled head and high withers of a thoroughbred made it ideal for racing. The ass on her and her soft skin made her ideal for fucking.

She felt something dip into the waistband of her panties, and then there was the sharp snap and sting of the elastic against her skin. She let out a yelp and turned to shoot him an annoyed look. He was grinning as broadly as she’d ever seen him.

“Be a dear and take these off too, would you?”

She hadn’t realized how wet she was getting until she started to shimmy her panties off. The chill of exposure hit the seam of her cunt. Her nipples were so hard they ached. She stepped out of her panties when they hit the ground.

From her peripheral vision, she watched as Jett came to stand in front of her again. His eyes fell to the mass of curls between her legs, and immediately, she felt her face warm. She steeled herself against the urge to cover up.

Jett let out another one of those embarrassingly country whistles, and she couldn’t help but reach up to cover her face, half-laughing, half-blushing into her hand.

“That’ll do,” he winked, tantalized by her bare form.

The heat between her legs throbbed; Jett in bed (or she supposed, even now, in the barn) was formidable. He was a man who never skimped on his own pleasure, and who took great care in rewarding his lover generously, after the fact. 

Already her mind was reeling with ideas on how to sate his needs, knowing full well that she’d be well-compensated for taking _creative_ liberties.

Before she could settle on one though, Jett spoke up, apparently having his own ideas.

“Go ahead and get on your knees, darling.”

She sank back down onto her knees and winced at the hardness of the wood below; her knees were still a bit tender from the spill she took earlier. 

She watched him, taking in the strength of his pose with his hands on his hips, and his erection now obvious as it strained against his jeans. 

He had that focused look in his eyes – the one he had when he was working with the horses. His hands were always so certain on them, the chiseled muscles beneath flexing; they really were a magnificent pair. She surprised herself by being a little envious then; she had fallen in love with him and this life, for sure, but Jett had been _bred_ for it. 

The Kirkland ranch made up the blood in his veins, and similarly, he kept it running.

“Going to give me a rubdown?” she asked playfully.

Something she couldn’t place passed before his eyes.

“Only if you work hard for me.”

At this, the image of her sweating under him flitted through her brain. 

She felt herself clench emptily. 

She batted her eyes at him, a little catty; the hint of a challenge.

“Just say the word.”

He watched her again, and for a moment, she thought he was going to make the first move. She sat up a little straighter, her posture pushing her breasts out. 

His hands never so much as twitched towards her.

“I want you to touch yourself.”

Standing above her, the simple instruction felt like a command. She felt a little thrill run down her spine. 

She had expected hands on her – just not her own.

She balked.

Since she and Jett had been together, she’d scarcely touched herself; she’d hardly felt the need to when he kept her so…satisfied.

She could still feel his eyes on her, making her skin heat and itch under their laser-focused scrutiny. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she had half a mind that he’d seen that too. Without thinking, her arms came up to wrap loosely over her chest.

He smiled, his inquisitive expression softening.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me, sweetheart. I told you I’d reward you if you earned it, didn’t I?”

Even if he hadn’t, she knew from experience that he would. Jett _always_ took care of her.

Again, her mind hijacked her attention, gleaning the image of him on top of her once more, this time so intensely that she practically felt the slip of his skin over her and the wiry hair at his chest teasing against her nipples.

He stepped forward, raising his hand to stroke gently at her hair. 

Immediately, her eyes shut and she leaned into the touch, her arms still holding herself.

“I like what I see; I always do,” he murmured.

Heat sparked in her cheeks. She dropped her arms before opening her eyes again.

He was looking at her expectantly now – she was a little expectant herself too. His words were simple, but rendered her invincible, much like a security blanket. 

A few moments passed, and then slowly, she inched her hand up to her breast and gave it a light squeeze.

Immediately, Jett’s eyes snapped to the movement.

Her body was soft and delightfully so. She felt herself clench emptily and then her other hand was reaching up, more certain, just short of eager, to palm her other breast. Weighty and plush, she grabbed herself more substantially. Her nipples were stiff against her palms.

She squeezed, pushing her breasts together, letting her thumbs rub focused friction at the sensitive peaks. Flecks of pleasure shot through her so strongly, she thought one might be able to reach over and thumb it like piano wire.

She felt more wetness gather at her inner thighs and let out a soft moan. Jett’s gaze was spearing into her.

“Spread your thighs a bit more,” he directed, his voice strained. 

It dropped a heat inside of her that pooled more insistently between her legs, pressing at her pelvic bone.

She shifted her weight, easing her thighs further apart to bare her cunt to him more plainly. Making sure he could see, she reached down to rake her fingers delicately through the wiry curls before her fingers found her wet folds, and spread them, again so he could get a good look.

Her body had been aching for touch there probably since she’d woken up. 

She sighed, relaxing into the feel of her fingers against her sex, her free hand tweaking at a nipple again.

Jett reached down to palm himself through his trousers as he watched her, rubbing to get some meager sense of relief. 

Her fingers moved swiftly, tracing along the wet seam of her cunt. She stiffened, a breathy whine leaving her mouth when she found her clit, and then her fingers picked up their pace, focusing on the bundle of nerves and switching between rubbing in a quick, flitted back and forth, and little circles.

Her hips twitched in response to the vibrant shocks of pleasure rippling through her and she moaned. Jett’s eyes had taken on a glassy quality, still rubbing at the bulge in his trousers as he watched her rut against her hand. The hand at her breast squeezed again before letting it drop in a luscious bounce. She did this several times, the motion of her body finding its own unique, sensual rhythm, even without Jett’s there to set it.

He popped the button on his trousers and yanked the zip down, unable to keep himself from properly jerking off any longer. He pulled himself from his underwear, his erection looking near-buoyant as it was released from the confines of clothes.

At the sight of him bared to her, her pace picked up, showing him exactly what he could expect from her if he’d only use his cock.

He grasped his cock, his thumb rubbing at the tip before he slunk it down his length, giving himself a few quick pumps; the thrill of touching himself in front of her wasn’t lost on him either. For lovers who’d been together as long as they had, it was a rather new light to see the other in.

He kept pumping his hand along his hard length, the tip shining slightly with precum. More than anything, she found herself wanting to grab it, wanting to make his face twitch and cinch in pleasure, wanting to drag a moan from him – but when she reached for it, Jett batted her hand away with surprisingly quick reflexes.

“Work first, reward later.”

Her cheeks burned with a shame she couldn’t quite place, and she squirmed, her hips grinding down against her hand; the resulting, tremulous pleasure that rang through her was good, but not enough. Nothing to his girth inside of her; she needed more.

She shifted backward, unfolding her legs, the hand at her breast moving slightly behind her to support her weight. Jett let out a little grunt as he watched her spread more for him, pumping a little faster. The short flitted movements of her fingers paused as she positioned two fingers at her entrance.

She wanted to put on a show for her private, adored voyeur.

As her fingers inched into her, she threw her head back and gave a loud moan, a sound punctuated only by the wet drag of her fingers along her inner walls. She went in without much resistance, wet as she was. Both of their arousals flared and she arched into her own touch, trying to tempt the man in front of her enough to touch her, as she hilted into herself to the knuckle.

Still though, Jett didn’t take the bait (even if it almost killed him.)

“Tell me what it feels like – to touch yourself in front of me.”

She could hear the faint rasp of his palm against his cock, and for a while, it almost drowned out his voice; at least in her mind, where words did nothing to stoke the heat of her arousal.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she started moving her fingers, pumping them in and out of her tight heat. She was only using two fingers, but still, her walls clamped down tightly on their minimal width. Another soft moan fell from her lips, and her shoulders dropped as she relinquished some of herself to the sweet friction.

“It feels…good,” she started. “But not as full – not like when _you’re_ inside me.”

She peeked her eyes open at half-mast when Jett didn’t respond, trying to convey to him just how much she _wanted_ him inside of her at that moment.

She stuffed her fingers aggressively in and out of herself, trying to simulate his firmness, the full scope of his presence when he fucked her, with her hand.

“Touch your- touch your clit again.” 

Jett’s eyes were fixed between her legs, watching the fervent pace of her hand, and nearly matching it with his own. Her face burned at the order as she slowed her hand, just enough so that her thumb could reach to brush against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Her stomach flip-flopped and she jolted at the sensation, her body reactive like a livewire to her knowledgeable fingers.

Between the quick movements at her clit, and the way her fingers thrust into her, her blood seemed to wash hot and cold, and she noticed the sweat she felt between her breasts, at her back, and down her belly.

Her hips knocked against her hand, the reverberating impact that shot up her arm only making her more cognizant of the rawness of what her body was doing and how she felt.

Her heart raced, recognizing the signs of her impending orgasm as she did, warring with the way she tensed as if digging her heels into the ground and trying to withstand the riptide release.

“ _Ah_ -“ she gasped. “I think I’m-“

She broke off, her voice tremulous as it split through the air, tormented at the prospects of coming by her own hands, and not his.

“Do it,” he practically growled. “I want to see you come.”

She pinched her eyes shut and thought of him; thought of the reward he’d grant her later – maybe he’d use his cock on her, maybe his mouth, certainly those strong, sure hands of his.

Yes – perfect; in her head, it was his fingers inside of her instead.

She froze this image, trying to bring every piece of it alive in her body; the friction of ‘his’ fingers, the roughness of ‘his’ breath. 

Her skin felt like it was on fire, and the arm she was putting her weight on quivered, about to send her careening back into a bed of straw, which was itching at the underside of her sweaty thighs. She pulsated around her fingers in machinegun succession. 

She was so deep into recreating the fantasy in the flesh, that despite how she hung at the precipice of her release, it still took her by surprise when she finally found herself falling.

Her body seemed to lurch, her hand trembling as she struggled to work herself through her orgasm; this was the worst part – without a partner, she couldn’t really fall through the sensation without leaving herself somewhat unfinished.

She soldiered on, pumping her fingers through her tight walls. 

More wetness seeped over her fingers and dripped down into the straw. At the back of her mind, she was grateful that Jett had just finished cleaning when she’d wandered in, and yet, she couldn’t help but think that they’d need to clean it again before it was time to bring the horses in.

Her chest heaved, and somewhere through the fog of her climax and the focus of her slowing, galumphing rhythm, she could register Jett letting out a low groan of his own.

Her breaths were paper-thin, cutting through the air and mixing up the stagnating scent of sex and sweat. When she caught her breath, it was almost silent, save for the distant sound of birds chirping.

That static of her post-orgasmic thrum crackled in her limbs like her nerves had been cut and left to shower sparks in her war-ravaged body.

Her eyelids were heavy, and so it took her a few moments to rally the will to open them. Just before she did though, something hot and sticky spattered at her. A musky scent swathed her, and at once she recognized it to be Jett’s spend.

She could hear him breathing heavily now, as she had been just moments before. There was a rustling as he moved, meanwhile, his seed on her was dribbling from where it initially landed – the glob at her face was dribbling down to her jaw. A drip dropped to the tops of her breasts and began its descent into the valley between.

A few more moments passed with some more of Jett’s rustling. Then, something coarse and dry was wiping at her face. She blinked a few times to make sure the scratchy material wasn’t close to her eyes, and then when she opened them fully, she saw it was the clean, work-rag Jett had tucked into his back pocket.

Jett was bending down to wipe her face and when she glimpsed past his hand, she caught sight of his softening cock.

“You look so good,” he said, as he dabbed once more at her face before his hand dropped to catch the dribble at her chest. “Beautiful.”

Her face warmed, meanwhile, the wetness between her legs was cooling down.

When she was patted clean, Jett rose to his feet again, and then his soft cock was about at eye level. She eyed it, still dripping slightly from his spend.

Jett seemed to notice where her attention had gone; he found himself rooted then, his curiosity preventing him from continuing the train of thought he’d been riding as he’d cleaned her.

She pushed off, moving sluggishly as she shifted to rest on her knees again and peered up at him.

He was going to suggest that they head inside; that they get cleaned up, have breakfast together, and that he finally give her that ‘rubdown’ she’d certainly earned, but the way she was looking at him made all these plans float away like balloons. 

He felt a faint stirring in his cock, despite how he’d just come as if it too had noticed the attention she was paying it.

Jett watched as she leaned forward, holding his gaze as she took his cock in her mouth, tasting the salt of him. He stiffened and his brow twitched, still sensitive from having come so recently. 

She sucked gently, careful not to overwhelm his sensitive nerves. 

She brought her tongue carefully against him, cleansing the remainder of his spend from him.

Jett groaned.

The taste of him started to dilute in her mouth; he must’ve been clean now, only she didn’t pull her mouth away. She didn’t want to.

Still watching him, she traced her tongue along the underside of him, and soon enough, the wet, tightness of her mouth begun to coax life back into his cock. Already, Jett found himself hardening again.

He grunted, his eyes falling shut as his fingers slipped into her hair to find a hold.

“Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?”

Her heart swelled at his question and she sat up a little straighter, intent on answering. She hollowed her cheeks around him, and now she could feel that he was fully hard once again. The thought had heat trickling between her legs once more.

It was a good thing he’d gotten up so early to start work because she had a feeling they’d be getting nothing done today.

His fingers flexed in her hair and she brought her tongue against his tip, grinding the flat of it against him. Her hand reached up to fondle lightly at his balls, and his hips jerked towards her at the sudden addition of sensation.

His length pushed further into her throat and she gagged, not ready to take all of him. The pressure brought a wetness to her eyes and then suddenly it was gone as Jett withdrew.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t be so rough with you.”

She took him in her mouth again, blinking her apology. Part of her wanted him to be rough with her; wanted him to pick her up and fuck her senseless. With her own desire rekindled in the pit of her stomach and simmering softly, she bobbed her head, tightening her lips around his cock.

She angled her head so that his cock was pointing upwards, near the roof of her mouth, and gently bumped that up against his tip too, her hand reaching up to wrap around the parts of him she couldn’t fit into her mouth.

Jett sighed, and pushed his thumbs deeper into her hair, massaging gently at her scalp.

She could sense he was close once the rubbing lost its rhythm and the grip in her hair tightened again. She pumped him in and out of her mouth as much as his hold on her would allow.

When he came again, she had expected him to hilt inside of her again – she had prepared herself for it. Instead, he used his grip on her to push her off of his cock just in time for him to spill all over her, this time glazing her breasts with his seed.

He was breathing hard again, harder than the last time, she thought. She watched him, his cock once again dripping and softening. He looked up at her too and studied his spatter job at her soft curves.

“You’re a real sight for sore eyes like that.”

She felt herself blush; her jaw ached a little, and she suddenly felt tired. The chill of exposure from earlier washed upon her again, heightened from her sweat-damp skin. 

Her arms folded around herself again. 

She suddenly missed their bed, and she was entertaining thoughts of a bath.

Her stomach rumbled, a deep sound that startled both of them, and she flushed deeper. Jett laughed.

He tucked himself back in and zipped up his trousers. Then, he bent over, snatching up her dress and panties easily among the rifling of straw. Not bothering to unravel her huddled position, Jett circled his arm around her back, letting her lean against him so he could slip his arm behind knees and scoop her up into his arms.

His body was still warm and thrumming against her. She let her hand rest unfurled at his chest, her palm feeling him through his shirt.

“Right. Let’s get you cleaned up so we can have breakfast-“ their eyes locked. “- _actual_ breakfast.”

She nodded into his chest, both in agreement and because his arms were warm and safe and there was nowhere else she’d rather be. She could feel the firmness of his chin at the crown of her head as he carried her out of the barn and back to the house. 

The sun was warm on her skin, the wind combed through her hair. 

It was half-past nine.


End file.
